


i want to touch you, but not like this

by Coeurire



Category: Batman - All Media Types, DC Extended Universe, Harley Quinn (Comics)
Genre: F/F, Ficlet, Mutual Pining, abuse mention
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-29
Updated: 2020-05-29
Packaged: 2021-03-02 19:21:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 796
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24442015
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Coeurire/pseuds/Coeurire
Summary: That conversation we were always on the edge / of having, runs on in my head. - Adrienne Rich, 21 Love Poems
Relationships: Joker/Harley (mentioned), Pamela Isley/Harleen Quinzel, Poison Ivy/Harley Quinn
Comments: 6
Kudos: 68





	i want to touch you, but not like this

_ That conversation we were always on the edge / of having, runs on in my head.  _ \- Adrienne Rich, 21 Love Poems

_ Wait by a brick wall for a season, and you’ll see the ivy twine up it.  _

Harley doesn’t know the first time she kissed Pamela. It’s like trying to remember the first time you opened your eyes, the first time you tasted water. 

She does know the first time she  _ remembers  _ kissing Pamela: a peck on the lips at one of the Joker’s big villain get-togethers, after Pamela said something cute, or funny, or annoying, or it doesn’t even matter, she doesn’t remember that part. What does matter is the way the Joker grabbed her by the neck of her uniform after the crowd’s attention drifted elsewhere. 

“What the hell was that?” 

She hadn’t known what he was talking about. 

“Don’t ‘what are you talking about, Mr. J?’ me,” he’d spat under his breath. “You and your little  _ girlfriend  _ cuckolding me in front of all my friends.” Harley couldn’t help but giggle at the word “cuckolding,” which was funny, until he’d backhanded her in front of everyone. 

“Women,” he’d crowed, when everyone stared. “Can’t live without ‘em. Can’t shoot ’em!” 

A few scattered, awkward laughs broke out, and the party resumed as usual. Ivy had found her later in a corner, pulled her to the side. 

“Harls, I know I’m a broken record,” she’d begun.

“Yeah, you know? Well then break a little less,” Harley had retorted. In response, Pamela had glanced around furtively and pressed her lips quickly to her cheek. 

“Take care of yourself, honey,” she’d said, and something about the catch in her voice when she’d said “honey” made Harley aware of the heart in her ribcage and the rhythm of its beating, but she was already with the love of her life so she brushed it off. 

_ The ivy leaves spread out and away from the hard bricks so the plant can take in sunshine. _

Moving in together meant they got to spend a lot more time together. Pamela kissed Harley good morning and good night, and Harley kissed Pamela when she was being sweet, or sleepy, or when there were other villainous men around to whoop and yell “Hubba hubba!” Pamela despised that last part, which made Harley, gleefully, do it more. They’d lay out on the roof of their building cuddling with Harley’s pets and sometimes with Selina, watching the stars and talking about everything.

Almost everything. They never, not once, talked about the future. Neither of them thought they had one, let alone one  _ together _ . 

“I love you, Harley,” Pamela got used to saying, and Harley got used to saying, “I love you too,” before planting a wet kiss on her cheek, or a soft kiss on her lips, or a hard kiss that left them tangled in bed together late that night before Harley made the walk of shame back to her own room. 

She never asked to stay the night. Pamela never invited her. They couldn’t. That would  _ mean  _ something. They were best friends, partners in crime, and.

And. 

There were things that needed to be said that Harley just wasn’t ready to say. Would never be ready to say. There were things that needed to be said that Pamela tried to say, but the words stuck in her throat, caught like insects in a pitcher plant. 

_ How do ivy vines live on a surface like that, hard and cold, not living?  _

As they lied in bed one morning, Pamela turned to her. “I love you,” she said.

“I love ya too, Pammie!” said Harley, and pulled her in for a kiss. Pamela pulled away. 

“I don’t think you’re understanding me, Harley. I  _ love you, _ _ ”  _ she said. 

Harley stuck her pinky in her ear and pretended to clean it. “Yeah. I heard ya the first time. What aren’t I understanding?” 

“I meant I want to be with you.” 

“We already are. What are you missing?” 

Pamela let out a deep sigh that seemed to come from her bones. “I’m trying to tell you that sometimes I wonder what I am to you.” She paused. “Because you’re…” She wasn’t a woman who often found herself at a loss for words, but this time she did. 

Harley pressed her lips to hers to shut her up, a funny, not serious kiss. When she pulled away, Pamela started to sit up, looking a million miles away. Harley put a soft hand on each of her cheeks. 

“You’re that to me too,” she said softly. “You hear? You’re that to me too.” 

Pamela let out a small laugh. “I didn’t even say anything.” 

_ The ivy survives because it gains nutrients from its solid foundation. Its roots lie firmly in the ground.  _

**Author's Note:**

> Twitter: Coeurire  
> Tumblr: mothbutterfly


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